Hawke vs Hawke
by Zeratide
Summary: After the events at Kirkwall, Hawke went on the run. But fugitives don't tend to have a lot of money, so while in Lothering he finds a tournament with a grand prize of 50,000 sovereigns. A twist finds himself in a situation he had never thought to be in... MageHawke vs Carver, HawkexMerrill. Rated M for violence.


Hawke took a deep breath through his nose, tightening his grip on his staff as the gates slowly opened Malcolm's Honor thrummed in his hand, and he gazed at his father's masterpiece, unchanged save for one detail to mark his individuality; the club had been changed to a blade, the steel taken from the Staff of Parlathan. As the gate jarred to a stop, he strode out, swinging the weapon around his body until he snapped it to a ready position; diagonal behind him, blade above his left shoulder and Andraste in repose out at his side. He stood ready, his stance wide, and waited.

"Ladies and gentlemen!" the announcer exclaimed, raising his voice over the cacophony of cheers, jeers, and shouts. "Tonight we have a fight unlike any other! The Champion of Kirkwall, Serah Garrett Hawke, will face against his brother, Commander of the Gray Carver Hawke!" Garrett's heart seemed to stop as the gates opened, and Carver strode in, both men displaying shock and fear. "Brother vs. Brother, two Titans locked in a duel to the death!" Garrett turned, glaring at the man, realizing he had been set up. _If I surrender, then Carver and I both die, _he thought, warily resuming his stance. _If I don't, then I may very well be killed._

The call was given, and Garrett turned his attentions outward.

Wasting no time, he sent a fireball hurling at his brother. In an instant, Carver had shot forward, slashing at his brother's midriff with his Blade of Mercy. Garrett widened his stance, going low and angling his staff to deflect the shot, sending it above him. Taking advantage of the opening, he sent a blast of lightning into his brother's armored side.

Carver stiffened as the volts shot through his body, and the eldest Hawke could see his brother's veins stand out rigidly in his neck. After a moment, Garrett cut the flow, and Carver went slack, leaning on his blade to stay on his feet. Garrett stepped back a fair distance, moving slowly to prevent his brother from charging. Carver stood panting, the corners of his mouth flecked with foam and his eyes wide and searching. After a few more seconds, Carver completely threw off the remaining effects, before hefting his blade as easily as a willow wand. He charged then, and for Garrett, the world faded away as his body went into repetition; dodge, deflect, dodge again, parry, try to get room to cast a spell.

Carver had grown stronger and smarter. Growing up with two mage siblings had taught him a mage's weaknesses, and he fully exploited them now. The mage required room to cast most spells, so he allowed none. The mage was suited for ranged combat, so he kept up his barrage, constantly pressing his brother back, his Templar abilities draining a little bit of Garrett's mana with each strike. When Garrett tried to shout an incantation, a quick backhand silenced him.

The pattern seemed timeless, unquestionable. All that existed between the two was action and reaction. They fought as they had fought under their father's gaze, when each was trying to gain just a hint of approval over the other.

After a time, the moment finally came. Carver smashed against Garrett's guard, and the eldest Hawke's knee buckled and gave out. When Garrett went down, Carver aimed a well-placed kick to the Champion's armored chest, sending him sliding across the floor with the sound of metal against rock.

Garrett slowly lifted himself to all fours, clutching at his chest as he doubled over, coughing. Carver watched silently as flecks of blood spattered across the ground before his brother rose to his full height. The front of his chest plate was caved in, and blood leaking out revealed that it had pierced Garrett's body. The beautiful wolf fur that had been on the pauldrons was shredded from the skid, hanging in blood-soaked tatters. Garrett grimaced in pain, and slowly undid the straps and buckles. It came off with a sickening squelch, before banging off the stone floor.

Now bare-chested, his wound was visible for all to see. Carver felt his heart hammering in his throat as he saw the rent sin and muscle, bloody and jagged. Garrett's ribs were visible, and one was clearly broken; Carver noted it had punctured his brother's lung. He tensed as his brother managed to shout a gargles spell, blood spewing from his lips as Carver was suddenly dragged across the floor, spinning once he reached the nexus. He heard Garrett shout another spell, and he recognized the Spirit Healer's incantation.

Carver watched as the rib shot out of his brother's lung, reattaching with an audible snap. Garrett's throat contracted, forcing the blood and mucus from his mouth in a grotesque parody of a dragon's flame. A moment later, a final spell healed his chest, leaving him without a scar. Noticeably pale from blood loss, he beckoned his brother, assuming a battle stance. Carver took a step forward, and was slammed down, feeling as if the Maker himself had punched him. Garrett grinned, using his Force Magic to throw his younger brother off. As the battle wore on, Carver grew more and more frustrated: he would go in for a finishing blow, only to be sent flying through the air before being bombed with fireballs.

Slowly but surely, the eldest Hawke wore his brother down, the last dregs of the Warden's stamina draining away. Garrett grinned, drawing more and more power from the Fade until he cast a blast of ice, freezing his brother in a chunk of ice and leaving only Carver's head uncovered.

"It's over, Carver," Garrett stated, looping his staff casually onto his back. "I win."

Carver struggled for a moment, before giving up, murmuring "You always win, brother." Garrett broke the ice with a motion of his hand, Carver falling to the ground and landing hard on his knees. Garrett slowly drew his staff, touching the blade to his brother's throat.

"Any last words?"

Carver grinned as he saw the older Hawke fingering a combustion grenade. "You were always smarter than me, too."

Garrett yanked the staff away as his brother dove for his sword, before he threw the grenade at the announcer who had arranged this twisted event. A little Force Magic sent the prize money into his hand before he created a cone of cold, the ice wall blocking the buzzing arrows hurtling toward them. He heard a loud clang, and grinned, backing into the hole his brother had just cleaved into the metal gate. Turning, the two Hawkes ran, disappearing into the forest.


End file.
